Hopelessly Devoted
by Thanatos Angelos Girl
Summary: She was hopelessly devoted to him. She gave him (with nothing in return) her mind, body, and soul on a silver platter.


_**Hopelessly Devoted**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**_

_**A/N: This is a Bellamort dedicated to the lovely Azzie for her birthday (though this is early I wanted to make sure I could finish her gift in time). Happy Birthday Azzie! Thank you for all you have done for me. **_

Bellatrix was nothing to him, but perhaps a crazed fanatic, a lust filled wench, or a distraction. Maybe, she was a doll he played with and broke again and again to put back together with frail stitches that held less and less of her together again. She could just be a faithful follower with a broken mind or even… a disappointment with crazed fantasies in her eyes.

Bellatrix did not know what the Dark Lord saw with his intense and emotionless gaze. When she dared to look into them all she saw were distorted reflections of her self. Nothing – she saw absolutely nothing – that allowed her to glean what he was thinking.

And yet her Lord – her precious, lovely, god-like Lord – knew everything about her. He knew every inch of her body, mind, and spirit. He had a map of her heart and a manual on how to play with her insanity to get every possible reaction out of her. She was his.

Bellatrix didn't mind. She loved every quake, shiver, shot of pain, cry, wail, shriek, scream, whisper, moan, and incoherent babble her Dark Lord elicited from her. She greedily took everything he gave her with helpless devotion.

She gave him (with nothing in return) her mind, body, and soul on a silver platter. His Mark was showcased on her skin. She never covered it. She wouldn't dare cover a symbol of her devotion to her Lord.

Bellatrix still shivered at the memory of her Lord's ancient, primeval magic surrounding her, consuming her, and rebirthing her into his personal warrior, lover, and slave. Bellatrix had arched her back in a form of masochistic pleasure when pain dashed through her blood and gathered on her left arm. She had nearly cried out in pure, unadulterated joy at the feeling of being his until the day she died. She was special. She was the only female in his league, in his life.

(She had to be special – what would she do if she were commonplace to her flesh and blood deity? She would simply die.)

Bellatrix would give everything to her Lord (and she did) and everything else she could steal from others to satiate his desires. He took everything from her. He took her backbone, her will, and everything that had made her strong and reduced her to a puddle of madness and obsession.

Despite that, she loved him. She really did. She craved, lusted, and needed him. His touch, gaze, and voice sent her spiraling down the rabbit hole and sent a rush – the type of rush drug addicts get from their first taste of their chosen poison – through her body. She was addicted to her Lord. She needed him more than air, water, or food.

(Yet he always pushed her away and sent her into withdrawal pains horrifying enough to break the minds of dozens.)

So when one day, he called her to his chambers Bellatrix dropped everything and ran – adrenaline pumping and blood coursing through her muscles, willing her body to move faster and faster – to his door where she stopped and listened to the rabbit thumping of her heart. Taking a moment to run her hand through her hair, (for she didn't want to look mangy – she had gone untouched for so long) she knocked on the door with pale knuckles, lust filled eyes, and a wild crimson war paint of blush on her cheeks.

"Come in," Her master called and she hesitantly entered the room and shut the door. Her heart was still pounding heavily and she kept her eyes to the floor. She didn't dare look her Lord in the eyes. She was his faithful servant – she wasn't on his level.

"Look at me, I have something of importance to speak to you about." His authoritative and majestic voice played like lullaby in her ears. She raised her gaze up to meet his dark chocolate eyes. She loved his eyes, even though at times they tortured her.

(They behaved just like her master.)

"Yes, my Lord." Bellatrix answered and tried to repress her disappointment. She desperately needed him and felt it deep within her. She wanted to feel special and wanted again. Yet, her Lord only called her for business affairs.

"You look disappointed." Her Lord observed – apparently she had done horrible at concealing her emotions. She was an open book to him.

"I am not, I feel honored to do what my Lord wishes of me." Bellatrix mixed the lie with truth in those words but nothing could please him when he knew he was right.

(He fought for himself – why can't you, Bellatrix?)

"Do you take me for a fool?" He asked her and she rigorously shook her head and mumbled an apology. "What did you think I called you here for?" He hissed into the tense silence that followed her response. Bellatrix looked down at the ground and felt shame color her thoughts. She didn't want to explain her misperception and she was devastated that she had offended him. Bellatrix always messed things up. She could do nothing right.

"I thought you were in want of a service requiring my flesh." Bellatrix heard the longing she felt escape her voice and she nearly flinched.

"I see," Her Lord seemed to ponder something before motioning for her to come closer. Bellatrix crept closer to her Lord until she was a foot or two away. There he held her face in one hand in his hand – his long fingers ghosting over her left cheek – before leaning into her right ear.

"Bellatrix, if you do as I order you to I will reward you in the fashion you desire." Bellatrix's nerves were on fire and her senses seemed to hallucinate as she could smell the perfume of sex and her Lord's breath sent waves of excitement through her as goosebumps rose on her skin. Bellatrix could see the bed behind her Lord and that did absolutely nothing to stop the ache that attacked her relentlessly when her Lord whispered those remarkable - completely and utterly remarkable - words.

"I will do whatever you wish, my Lord." With those words, he left her to return with a cup.

"Keep this artifact safe, do not let anyone touch it. Hide it where no one will be able to retrieve it. You understand?" He handed it to her and Bellatrix took it gratefully.

"Yes, My Lord." Bellatrix didn't hesitate to answer. She would put it in the Lestrange vault where it would be safe. Anything her Lord said was important was sacred to her. She would take care of it. Bellatrix wouldn't let him down.

"You are dismissed." Her Lord informed her and she bowed her head before she looked into his eyes.

"Yes, my Lord." She held the cup with the delicacy one would treat a precious newborn baby as she left the room.

Just one more task and her Lord would reward her.

(How many times has she told herself that though? She's so hopelessly devoted.)


End file.
